


Favor

by akisawana



Category: RWBY
Genre: 3x11 spoilers, M/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 13:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5969404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akisawana/pseuds/akisawana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Qrow is not in the habit of asking favors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Favor

Qrow flinched when Glynda tapped his shoulder. “What do you want, lady,” he whispered, trying not to disturb Ruby. She was pretending to sleep on his shoulder. Qrow respected that.

 

“You have things to do,” Glynda told him, sitting down on Ruby’s other side.

 

“Tell Ozpin to shove it up his ass and twist.” Qrow had come straight from the battlefield, Grimm blood still soaked in his boots. His nieces needed him here more than Ozpin needed him to clean up whatever mess the old man had made.

 

Glynda sighed. “Qrow, we’ve talked about this. You have things to take care of. I will stay here with Ruby until you come back.” She held out a small bundle that took Qrow a minute to recognize as clothes.

 

Right. Things. Glynda was always on his back after a fight to drink water and put on clean clothes. She thought things like that mattered, that it was important to look perfect. Nothing mattered now except Yang and Ruby. Yang was sleeping the sleep of good painkillers, and Ruby….he didn’t know what to do for Ruby.

 

“Do you have to go, Uncle?” Ruby asked, looking up from under her hood. “We’ll be alright if you have something important to do.”

 

“He needs to go make himself presentable,” Glynda told her. “So when the doctors come they don’t mistake him for a hobo and kick him out.” Ruby didn’t laugh, but Glynda wasn’t joking. And really, Glynda wouldn’t make him if it wasn’t for his own good.

 

“It was  _ one  _ time,” he grumbled, standing up.

 

“And I’d like to keep it that way. Now, Ruby. How is the rest of your team?” Glynda glared at Qrow over her glasses until he walked away, and Ruby only offered him a small wave.

 

Maybe it was for the best. Qrow didn’t know what Ruby needed now. Glynda did. Glynda always knew what to do, especially when it came to students. When it came to his nieces...Qrow trusted her a lot more than anyone else here.

 

Certainly more than himself. How was he supposed to take care of them when he couldn’t even take care of himself? Forty years old and still Glynda was tracking him down after a fight to send him off to the showers. He couldn’t even manage that without her reminding him.

 

What could he do? What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t...he could kill that White Fang boss, but that wouldn’t help. He could take a shower and think.

 

The shower didn’t help.

 

Qrow drank a glass of water after he pulled on the borrowed clean clothes, just so he wouldn’t have to lie to Glynda about it. He’d rather have whiskey but his flask was empty. It would help him, would burn away the memory of Yang’s blood dripping on the floor. Yang wasn’t supposed to wear red. Red was his sister’s color, and Ruby’s. Yang was supposed to be yellow fire, all things warm and safe. Yang was supposed to be orange and purple and laughter and, and...not this. Not ash.

 

Glynda was still with Ruby, as she had promised. She shooed him silently before he could do more than poke his head in the door, Ruby half-curled on her lap. His niece was shaking, and when Glynda looked back down at the girl, there was a fearful tenderness on her face.

 

Qrow fled.

 

Where could he go? Not Ozpin. Taiyang was back home, Summer was dead. Who knew where his sister was. There was nowhere for Qrow to be, except with his nieces, and Glynda had that covered better than Qrow ever could. There was nothing to be done for Yang, was there? Nothing anyone could do, if it was something Glynda couldn’t fix. Glynda could work miracles, General Ironwood visibly envied her and it was hilarious...

 

Ironwood could help Yang. He had the robot arm and the robot and the...robot arms. Maybe he had an extra he could give to Yang? The thought made Qrow stop dead outside Ironwood’s door. He could ask Ironwood for a favor.

 

No, not a favor. Offer a trade. Qrow ran his fingers through his hair. Ironwood wasn’t one for charity. He respected strength. If Qrow could offer him something, some token, even if it wasn’t worth a tenth what he was asking, that would go down easier. Right? What could he offer to sweeten the pot? What didn’t Ironwood have already? What did Ironwood want?

 

Ten years around him had taught him plenty about the General. Ironwood liked shows of dominance, of professionalism. He liked all the i’s dotted and all the t’s crossed, the corners square and to bite down on Qrow’s collarbone hard enough to leave marks for Glynda to see the next morning.

 

Qrow couldn’t offer him discipline or intelligence, money or power or whatever the General wanted. But Ironwood had wanted his body enough before. Maybe that would be enough. It would have to be enough. He ran his hands through his hair one more time and pushed open the door.

 

“Excuse me, sir, you can’t come in here.” One of those inescapable Atlas soldiers scurried in front of Qrow while two more looked between Ironwood and Qrow, only their eyeballs moving. The General himself just looked annoyed. And, impossibly, dressed. Qrow had  _ seen _ him on the battlefield, his clothes torn to shreds. Where did he get a new coat so soon? And why did he bother?

 

“I have something to discuss with your boss,” Qrow said, sauntering right past her. He gave Ironwood the best sexy head-tilt-and-smirk he could muster. “Something privately.”

 

“Whatever you want, it can wait,” Ironwood said, turning back to his paperwork.

 

“I don’t think you want it to.” Qrow pitched his voice low. “I promise, General. It’s something you shouldn’t allow your staff to handle, if you know what I mean.”

 

One of the frozen soldiers tittered, and the brave one blocked Qrow’s path again. “Sir, you need to leave. Now.” Her voice was steady enough to deserve a promotion. “Whatever it is, you can leave it with us and it will be taken care of in due time.”

 

“I think I saw a Grimm moving,” Qrow said. It was what Ironwood used to say, when he wanted to drag Qrow behind a tree and prove they were both still alive. Now, Ironwood’s head snapped up to level a look of death at Qrow. “Behind your chair.”

 

“What the hell are you drinking?” Ironwood put both hands on his desk and pushed himself up. “Get  _ out! _ ”

 

“Jimmy,” Qrow drawled, holding his hands up. “You know-”

 

“I know have things to do,” Ironwood growled. “Some of us have  _ duties _ to attend to!”

 

“I need to  _ talk _ to you.” Qrow cocked an eyebrow he didn’t really feel. He couldn’t go back to Ruby empty-handed. Nobody had even told her Yang would be okay. Nobody knew if Yang would be okay.

 

“Out, out, everyone out,” Ironwood snapped. “If this man  _ insists _ , go make yourself useful somewhere else.”

 

The three lackeys fled while Ironwood came out from around the desk. Qrow held his ground. This would be so much easier with whiskey. Most things are.

 

James walked right past Qrow and locked the door. “Do you really think I have the time or the inclination to deal with you right now?”

 

“That’s not fair,” Qrow said to James’ back. Now that he had him alone, how to broach the subject?

 

James still didn’t look directly at Qrow as he went back to his desk, straightening the papers. He liked things to be in order. The mess outside must be driving him crazy. “Well,” James said. “What’s so important?”

 

Qrow swallowed, his throat suddenly gone dry. “Jimmy,” he said again, coming closer. He could do this part. It was the other thing he couldn’t ask for. He couldn’t hear...what if the answer was no? “I need a favor.”

 

“Go on.” James leaned against his desk and folded his arms. Qrow wondered what it was like to have one be metal. Was it cold? Yang shouldn’t know cold.

 

“My niece needs a new arm.” There. He said it. It was real. Qrow closed his eyes for half a second, but there wasn’t time for emotions. He drifted closer to James, reached out to him. “If you could help her, I could make it worth your time?”

 

James swatted his hands away. “What are you  _ saying _ ?” he demanded. “Did you just barge in here and offer me sex to help your niece? What kind of man do you think I am?”

 

“You certainly never had a problem with it before,” Qrow snapped, and he couldn’t stop from hunching in on himself. Plenty of times Ironwood had snatched him up on his way out of the shower, pressed him against the wall and kissed him like he was going to eat him. Plenty of times Ironwood had taken him two steps from the battlefield, with the adrenaline racing in both their veins and blood thick in their mouths. How many times had James ripped the last shreds of a shirt from Qrow’s shoulders in his haste? How many bruises had James left among the ones from Grimm?

 

“So I should just take one off the shelf, shove my cock down your throat, and let you go off on your merry way?” James wasn’t yelling. He didn’t even sound angry anymore. Just incredulous, and cold, and doubtful of his own hearing. “You think it works like that? Do you honestly think prosthetics could work like that?”

 

“Well, yes.” Maybe no. They’re expensive. How could any part of Qrow be good enough? Especially when he’s let James have him every which way already, when they both know all James has to do is catch him between the fight and the flask. Qrow’s always rolled over like a dog for James, never been able to resist someone who could put him on his back.

 

“Qrow.” James caught Qrow’s wrists, drew him close. “Qrow, this is custom tech we’re talking about. We’ll need to take measurements, mock up a prototype, you have to let it  _ heal _ .” He shook his head, slid his hands up. They were massive, big enough to wrap around Qrow’s arms almost completely. James could shatter the bones there without so much as a grunt, and the thought made Qrow’s breath catch. “The first thing you did was come here to ask for…” He shook his head again.

 

“I took a shower,” Qrow protested weakly. But James’ hands were moving again, resting on his shoulders and he felt safe. Safe, and a little foolish, but James wasn’t laughing at him or sending him away. God, he was safe here, and he hated that, because what right did he have to safety when Yang was in pieces? He looked up at James. The general’s eyes were soft, James had no poker face, never had.

 

“So you did,” James murmured, his left hand coming up to cup Qrow’s cheek. He was almost smiling, and hope dared to creep into Qrow’s chest. Yes, James liked the idea. The paternal arrogant bastard would like Qrow begging and off balance. “I appreciate it.”

 

So what? For Yang it wasn’t what he would give. It was what James would take. “Had to make an offer you wouldn’t refuse.”

 

“You’re serious.” James let go of Qrow, pulled away so fast it was a slap. “You think I would  _ trade _ ?”

 

No, no, he was losing it. Qrow wished he had brought his flask so his hands would have have something to do, shoved them in his pockets instead. Ironwood’s eyes were flinty on his face, that stupid little metal eyebrow bouncing light right into Qrow’s eyes. He had to look away, his pulse pounding in his ears. “If you’re not going to go for it, just say so.”

 

Ironwood didn’t say anything. Qrow never should have come. At least he’d tried, but he wasn’t good enough for his nieces. Once again, he’d come up short for them but at least he was  _ trying _ , damnit. More than anyone else did for them. Must his heart be so loud? It was going to royally screw up his exit.

 

“Qrow.” James’ hands were on his shoulders again, one warm and one cold. Summer and snow. “Listen to me. I already arranged it with Glynda. You have my word, when it’s time, I will personally make sure Yang gets what she needs.”

 

Relief hit Qrow hard as a Nevermore, a dragon, his sister. He closed his eyes and managed to stay on his feet. “Thank you,” he forced out, his throat tight.

 

James drew him closer, saved Qrow from falling when he swayed dangerously. “You’re a mess,” he murmured.

 

“I’m fine,” Qrow said, but he let his head fall forward, let his cheek rest on James’ unyielding chest. James had been so set on being the one to talk to Yang after Mercury -that was a problem for another day, Qrow was sure he’d seen the boy running around Beacon videoing the Grimm attack. James had sworn up and down he’d handle it, leave it to him, and they’d let him. And he’d treated her fairly. She hadn’t been  _ happy,  _ of course not, but Qrow could trust Yang to James. That wasn’t just faith, or hope, or even an educated guess. That was proven.

 

Qrow sighed. Yang taken care of, and Glynda taking care of Ruby better than he ever could. Now all that was left was the waiting. 

 

“You’re shaking,” James said, his hands sliding down to Qrow’s waist. He swung Qrow up and around easily, sat him on the glass desk.

 

“Am not,” Qrow said, leaning back on his hands. No way the dt’s were setting in already. It hadn’t been  _ that _ long.

 

James settled in between Qrow’s knees and flicked open the lowest button on his borrowed shirt. “She’ll be okay,” he said, thumbing open the next one and the next. “A little cybernetic enhancement is not the end of the world.”

 

“I know that.” But he still...nobody had said those words to him. Yang will be okay. The General was not one to say things lightly. And Yang was strong like her father, like Summer. If he hadn’t been in the next room when she was born, Qrow would wonder if Yang had any Branwen blood in her at all.

 

“You didn’t let anyone check you out, did you?” James asked, pushing Qrow’s shirt off his shoulders. “You better not be bleeding internally. Glynda won’t forgive you so easily again.”

 

“It was one time,” Qrow protested, kicking off his boots.

 

“One time too many.” James pushed Qrow back to lie on the desk. When Qrow reached for him James caught both wrists in his metal hand, pinned them above his head, made a show of checking his ribs and chest and belly with the other. “I think you’ll be okay,” he said, fingers wrapped around Qrow’s hip.

 

“Told you so,” Qrow said, but his voice wasn’t nearly as steady as it should be. Not with James’ breath hot under his jaw, not when he was held down and open and defenseless so easily.

 

James smiled down at him, a private wicked smirk only Qrow ever saw. “You’re still a mess,” he said. “I wish I had some rope.”

 

Qrow felt his eyes widen, his heart skip a beat. “Maybe next time,” he said, not moving when James let him go. Next time he’d bring James rope, some soft cord James could wrap around his wrists and ankles. On a bed, or a desk, or even on the floor, doubled over on himself. Yeah, next time they’d have some real fun.

 

This time, though. This time James tossed aside his coat -Qrow smiled to see no shirt underneath, and not just because that was a hell of a view. James didn’t have it together any more than Qrow did. He just hid it better. Qrow pushed himself up on his elbows to fully appreciate the view, but James didn’t give him long before he was kissing Qrow, metal hand cradling his skull and the other braced on the desk.

 

Qrow went for James’ pants, cursing his shaking fingers as he fumbled them open. James didn’t let him up for air until he was good and ready, and while he was gasping James pushed him back down, half crawled on top of him with a knee between his legs, scraped his teeth on Qrow’s collarbone just hard enough to light a fire low in his belly. Qrow reached for James’ hips, worked his pants down while James ravished his neck, whined low in his throat when James grabbed his hands and sucked on his fingers.

 

James got off the desk briefly to kick his pants the rest of the way off, and Qrow shimmied out of his own. “Did you upgrade?” he asked, craning his neck to look. He thought James seemed bigger, but it’d been months.

 

“I made a few modifications,” James admitted, wrapping his left hand around Qrow’s cock. Qrow’s hips rolled up into the touch of their own accord, and James smiled at how eager he was. “Don’t worry, I kept it small enough for you.”

 

“I can take whatever you have,” Qrow said, reaching for the seam where metal met flesh. He pulled himself up, put his mouth on the metal triangle that drove James wild. James grabbed his knee, tight, and then let go of Qrow entirely.

 

“Will you  _ stay  _ down,” James huffed, pushing Qrow’s shoulders back flat against desk, the glass cold against his burning skin.

 

“Ask me nicely,” Qrow demanded. If that’s how James wanted him, he’d have to earn it.

 

“Next time, there will be rope.” James ran his metal fingers down behind Qrow’s balls, and they didn’t feel nearly cold enough. He held Qrow’s hips down with his left arm, and frowned slightly.

 

“Jimmy?” Qrow asked, his hands plucking at James’ shoulder.

 

“It’s fine,” James said. “I just can’t see what...there.” A finger slid up and inside Qrow, slick and warm, and Qrow forced himself to relax against the intrusion. James must have been trying to get the lube open without looking. Except he’d been naked, and there was no bottle in sight, so where did it come from? Where did it go? It was hard to think with James rubbing small circles, encouraging Qrow to relax and let him in. James always used liberal amounts of slick, and Qrow expected him to pull out and add more. But he didn’t, just slipped another finger in besides the first, just as butter-smooth, no lingering chill from the bottle.

 

“Your fingers are self-lubricrating?” Qrow sat up in surprise, tried to peer between his own legs. That had to be it. It was the only thing that made sense. Was that even possible?

 

“Yes,” James said, smug asshole. He twisted his fingers, teasing deep inside Qrow. “I think you like it.”

 

Qrow flung himself backwards as hard as he dared. He did, but like hell he would admit it. The closest he would come was hooking one of his legs up on James’  shoulder.

 

“You want more?” James asked, turning his head to mouth at the vulnerable hollow of Qrow’s knee. His hand never stopped moving, now stretching him wide, now thrusting as far as he could reach, now pressing deep in all the most teasing places, now rolling him open for a third finger. “I think you can handle more.”

 

“I can handle whatever you’ve got,” Qrow bit out as James added a fourth finger. Now Qrow was full enough to feel it, finally. James’s hand anchoring him to the desk, his other hand wrapped around Qrow’s leg, Four fingers was his limit, right? That’s all James had. Qrow could take it, Qrow could clench down on James’ hand to feel the pressure spike up his spine.

 

“We’ll see about that.” And what did that even mean? James sat back on his heels, pushed Qrow’s legs farther apart. He pulled his fingers all the way out, and then Qrow faintly heard the hiss of tiny pneumatics. What was he doing?

 

Edging something in, and Qrow didn’t know how the hell it fit but impossibly it  _ did _ and he had an entire hand in his ass and it was all he could think about, that it somehow fit and made his blood sing. He could feel James’ knuckles as he rotated his wrist, and Qrow couldn’t swallow the moan when James slowly let his fingers spread.

 

“You’re enjoying this,” James said, his left hand rubbing idle circles on Qrow’s belly. Qrow reached up to grab the edge of the desk, something to hold onto, anything to hold himself together. He was trembling, he could feel himself shaking against James, but James was iron immovable as he thrust into Qrow with deliberate slowness.

 

Qrow managed a single, humiliating mewl, kicked his feet feebly. He had no leverage, no footing, and he couldn’t balance on the knife-edge, he needed James to touch his aching cock. Qrow couldn’t come without a hand there, James knew that, knew that no matter how far he drove Qrow to squirm and try to beg without words, Qrow was helpless.

 

And James  _ loved  _ that, rat bastard, loved having Qrow helpless under him. “You’re doing so well,” he cooed, and fuck how did that make Qrow even hotter, make him throw his head back and bite his lip until copper bloomed on his tongue. “Took my whole hand like a champ. See what you can do if you focus?”

 

Qrow nodded vigorously. He couldn’t remember why James was talking about focus, couldn’t remember anything but the taste of blood and fingers digging in his hip and James’ soft chuckle as he withdrew slowly. All he could do was pant while James lined himself up, close his eyes when James pushed inside, moan while James filled the aching void.

 

James answered with a groan of his own, a muffled curse and something that might have been praise. He lifted Qrow’s hips easily, slid halfway out and slammed back in to Qrow’s startled little “oh.” But James didn’t slow down, driving into Qrow with relentless speed, just the right side of painful.

 

Qrow made it seven thrusts, seven earth-quaking thrusts before he was begging James to touch him, please, he needed just a hand. “Touch yourself,” James commanded, hiking Qrow’s legs up farther. “Show me how you like it.”

 

Qrow liked it like this, on his back under James, the way James’ hips fit snugly against his ass and the way James’ hands were tight enough on Qrow’s hips to paint bruises across his skin. But he also liked his cock held the same way he held his sword, liked letting James’ thrusts bounce his palm down the shaft, liked his other hand brushing over the head and smearing the clear fluid gathering there. 

 

“Yeah, just like that,” James said, moving faster. His face was red, sweat gathering at his temples. He moved faster, impossibly fast, and the faster he moved the tighter Qrow gripped himself, until Qrow’s back arched and his eyes closed and he felt himself spill over the both of them.

 

James didn’t stop, didn’t even slow, chasing his own finish while the aftershocks still danced under Qrow’s skin. He pressed his face to Qrow’s shoulder -Qrow could feel the metal, burning cold, and he cried aloud high and wanton as James filled him.

 

They lay entwined for a moment. Qrow tried to remember whose office they were in. Did they have to make themselves presentable? That wasn’t happening anytime soon. James pushed himself up and looked at the mess between them. He dragged a finger through it, and Qrow’s skin shivered in its wake. James looked up at him, considering.

 

But whatever he planned, he thought better of, and reached for tissues instead. Qrow closed his eyes and let his head fall back while James cleaned them up. He didn’t care. He was very tired.

 

“Qrow,” James said, and from the snap in his voice, it wasn’t the first time. “Put your pants on, at least.”

 

Qrow opened one eye to find them in his lap, He pulled them on with minimal fumbling, then slid off the desk, his knees stiff and protesting. The ground swayed, or maybe Qrow did, it didn’t matter. James caught him. James never let Qrow fall.

 

He should say something, but James’ chest was warm and strong and he just wanted to stay there for a minute. He should move, but the floor was treacherous and he liked where he was. Ironwood was saying something, but Qrow never listened.

 

Qrow wasn’t even surprised when James picked him up bodily and carried him over to the couch. It was hard and cold and there were buttons on it. Qrow frowned up at James, and yawned, and forgot what he was saying. Ironwood picked his coat  up off the floor and draped it over the other man. It more than made up for the deficiencies of the couch, smelling of gun oil and thick enough to stop a bullet. “Sleep now,” he ordered. “Your nieces will need you in the morning. Sleep for them.”

 

“For them,” Qrow agreed, and then he knew no more.


End file.
